I exercise abnegation towards absolution
The thought of the chalice fills me with anguish
Blatant apathy becomes a repetitious provision
The aught contrivance of which totters amain
A fablous four lines my friend.
Sometimes I find myself lost in the words until the only one that knows the true meaning is the words.
as always, wordsy "a thin trail of whispers
across a wandering mind
faint flashes of fantasy
that I often find
merely jaded shadows
of who I used to be
they fill with words, my pages
for all the world to see"
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